


fortis

by indomiiac



Series: The Unfortunate Case of an Insomniac [5]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Characters Swearing, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Insomniac Scrooge McDuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2020-07-19 10:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19972666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indomiiac/pseuds/indomiiac
Summary: Sequel to reminiscentia! (previous story)"Fortis", the latin word for "strong"! The legendary Scrooge McDuck and his empress are picking the pieces back for themselves and their families. Misadventures, treasure, and secrets uncovered are coming their way, and together they will face it head-on! Because these ducks don't back down!





	1. boys will be boys

**Author's Note:**

> IM SO RUSTY how does anyone write at such a consistent pace GOD  
> we're in for another adventure boys!!!1!!1111!1
> 
> insomnia au masterpost babey:  
> https://domiinon.tumblr.com/post/180578210717/insomniascrooge-au-master-post

Like another morning in the mansion, Clan McDuck woke up at the same time, expecting the sun to rise and shine on their faces as usual. Not really an estate of early birds, but they do manage. Routines are important to them if it wasn’t then the house would be plunged in discord.

You see, the McDuck family was like the inner workings of a clock, one would alarm, one would be the batteries, one would tick and tock, and everything else was the gears. It all worked together just fine. Except this clock needed repairs, the gears big and small are nearly rusting. I suppose it had been neglected for quite a while. The clock still functions, of course, not flawlessly but it was enough to keep running in the pace it worked to. The batteries were the problem, almost depleting itself of energy. It knows this. It knows that it is incapable to keep on going with what it has left. It’s not enough.

Scrooge McDuck as he is now can’t keep operating like this, can’t really keep the family together by himself anymore, especially in his condition. It will be typical if Scrooge kept it all to himself again, the knowledge of the tragic “disappearance” of his niece. It won’t be the first time he’d be secretive, and the family would completely accept it at this point. That was, well, just a Scrooge thing.

In almost every dimension, Scrooge would do that. In this particular reality with all of the miser’s circumstances, he can no longer stand for any of it.

“Beakley, could ye gather everyone for a house meeting?” Scrooge ordered her, in the usual tired tone. 

He sits in the dining room, at the spot where he usually does, a lone chair at the end of the table and behind him was a portrait of his parents. The miser appeared to have more sleepless nights ever since he found out about Della. Speculation would suggest that Scrooge would have had nightmares or thoughts that kept him up all night. Acute or chronic, whatever the hell it may be, his accursed insomnia was something that always revered him. 

Beakley knew that tired and sleep-deprived expression too well. She’d seen it all the time these ten years. The maid wasn’t surprised at all if we were to be honest, so she didn’t give any comments to that.

“Very good, sir,” She complied.

It was then Goldie had woken up. She shifted the sheets only to find that a pillow has replaced her partner. The woman with golden locks sat up and closed her eyes for a few seconds. It’s been a few days after she told the miser how she genuinely felt— no tricks, no lies, or anything. 

Goldie looked over to Scrooge’s side of the bed which was empty. She laughed. It’s usually the other way around, but that wasn’t the case this morning.

She rests her hand on the area where Scrooge would’ve slept and sighed gleefully, shaking it all off. She finally took off from his bed. Soon enough, his bedroom’s door opened, and she came out, switched from her nightgown to what was now her everyday attire of a crimson blouse together with a black maxi skirt. However, a child was expecting her outside. He was tapping repeatedly on his phone, sitting on the floorboards and leaning on the wall. 

The little one looks up as the door creaked, meeting eyes with his uncle’s um—hopefully-soon-to-be-at-least-a-lover. Their whole thing was made so complicated when it could've had a simple answer. Louie didn't even want to think about it, but it was fun to infuriate Goldie at every chance he got.

“Morning,” Louie greeted with a wide grin, provoking Goldie’s nature, “You know you’ve slept over a lot lately, _Aunt Goldie_.”

_‘Aunt Goldie…’_

“Good morning to you too, you little shit,” she retaliated as she sat next to Louie for a while, “You’re up early, what’s the occasion?”

“House meeting downstairs. Everyone has to be there.”

“House meeting?” Goldie raised a brow.

“I don’t make the rules. Mrs. B does,” the small child shrugged, Goldie still by his side, “You can still get away, you know.”

“And let you tattle on me when I’ve gone? No thanks, Your Majesty.”

“I owe you, remember?” he explained himself, handing it to her in a playful manner.

“From a con artist to another one, I’m not cashing in that one yet. I can handle Tina, Verde.”

“Sure, you can,” the gremlin overlooked that and exchanged a tone of sarcasm.

Goldie grabbed and carried the child on one arm because he was clearly inviting her too. The boy didn’t mind being carried around so he resumed on tapping on his phone. Goldie kept in mind that the triplets saw that the two were sleeping beside each other on the couch THAT morning in fact. Louie hasn’t brought it up, neither of the boys have. However, they were looking at her with the same face ever since. 

Yes, to answer the question, it was the smug face. They really were their mother’s children, taking after Della’s temperament. She despises this very much.

Goldie ventured down to the staircase, following the red carpet leading down to its landing. The green one looked up before she could turn and started speaking.

“Oops, you have to wake Webby up. I forgot.”

Goldie grunted at this, slightly irritated that she’s been told this a little late. Webbigail Vanderquack was a little girl she hasn’t gotten along with… yet. 

The tension between the two was thick, especially when Webby has been against the idea of her entirely. Goldie knows that whatever Beakley has been telling the little girl about her was certainly making the raging fire stronger. All of the things, of course, the bad things Goldie was infamous for, Beakley had informed the child was probably and almost accurate. The old thief couldn’t really deny it because all of it was true.

The little rosebud is very straightforward when it comes to her opinions about Glittering Goldie but she has been too occupied with other matters. Goldie’s hypothesis would be concluded with an “If Scrooge hasn’t said anything then Webby was likely to be suffering in silence instead, keeping it all to herself.”

“Well, _Llewelyn_. I’m dropping you here then,” Goldie put down the child gently although he was annoyed at the use of his full name uttered by her.

“Hey, fuck you too, Auntie.”

“Woah, watch your _fucking_ language,” she whispered, then she blew a kiss before raising a middle finger.

Goldie proceeded to climb the stairs the other way, planning how she should approach the little girl. It wasn’t long enough until she found herself in front of Webby’s bedroom located in the mansion east wing. At the creak of the door, it turns out the duckling had appeared with a crossbow before. This wasn’t news to the older woman. She was no longer surprised as every encounter with Vanderquack has been like this. 

“Hello, rosebud,” Goldie greeted her, wary of the weapon being wielded by someone too young to have that, “If you keep waving that around, you’ll shoot someone’s eye out.” 

“That’s the intention.”

“Must we always have to exchange declarations of war?”

“Whose fault do you think that is?”

Goldie laughed at the accusation and thought of an idea to resolve this. Webby, on the other hand, was a bit taken aback from the woman’s reaction, but she steadied her defenses.

“Tell you what,” the thief offered, “If you want to know more about Scrooge, I could fill in the missing pieces of your board.”

“Really?” Webby’s eyes sparkled at that, then paused, “Wait, what’s the catch?”

“I don’t want to deal with you like how I deal with your grandmother if you want me to say it honestly.”

The little girl didn’t respond, but she lowered her weapon slowly and set it aside.

_‘That’s progress. Better make it count, Glittering Goldie.’_

“As much as I love quarreling with your grandmother, it’s tiring to have enemies all over the place. Especially when one of them is a young girl.”

“Ok…” Webby considered Goldie’s circumstances, and that letter she wrote in Scrooge's letters but kept in mind how her grandmother viewed her, “...So you want peace?”

“In exchange for information, I can provide you if you want it.”

“... That would work for Louie.”

“Then what do _you_ want?”

Webby stopped herself from blurting out anything, or at least, Lena did then she had an idea- **They** both had an idea.

“I need you to accompany me on an adventure after breakfast,” the little girl demanded, looking up with determined eyes.

“That soon? Can’t anyone else do it?” Goldie asked.

“You’ve seen Mr. McDu-... Uncle Scrooge’s condition and the boys are busy helping him recover. I doubt Granny would even allow me to go on my own. I know **you** sent Uncle Donald to an assignment, and well, he doesn’t really adventure anymore.”

“Hm. So you need someone who can cover their tracks to help you sneak out which is perhaps an alleged crime

in this house? You do know I’m not the most trustworthy one out there?”

“I know you’re Agent 53: Glittering Goldie, the angel of death. You work for SHUSH just like Granny.”

_This kid…._

“Correction: _Worked_. Did Beakley tell you all that?”

“Oh no. She’s not going to break protocol even if it’s me.”

“Well, you’ve certainly done more homework than Louie. You really are 22’s granddaughter.”

“Don’t _you_ have a granddaughter?” 

“And that’s _where we stop._ Let’s discuss all of this later after breakfast because there’s a house meeting downstairs.”

“Okay, okay! I’ll save it for later~ but a house meeting?”

“I’m as clueless as you are.”

The two went downstairs as quick as they could. When they entered the dining room, everyone was already in the designated spots with breakfast set on the table. Naturally, Huey, Dewey, and Louie were present. Donald seldom appears, but this morning was different. None looked anxious but the tension was there. Almost everyone was clueless but some had drawn to their own conclusions as to what was going to happen. 

Webby discreetly darted to her chair while Goldie slowly marched to hers. Scrooge seemed unresponsive to this, barely touching his food.

Goldie has seen him this way ever since she came back, but he never shows this out in the open especially around his own family until today. He was an open book except its contents were illegible and scattered; no one could read him. The woman didn’t want to push him to say anything to avoid the consequences of Scrooge closing himself off even further. 

“Unca,” Donald broke the silence and began to speak in his regular voice, slightly alarming the kids of the sudden switch, “...What’s going on?”

“Ah,” Scrooge snapped out of his daydream, “...Right.”

“Scroogie?” Goldie asked in concern as Scrooge softened his expression, becoming a little hesitant.

He sighed in response, visibly slumping his shoulders. 

“I’m okay. I just need to… “he proceeds to speak hesitantly, but gathered the strength to tell them what he knew, what he remembered. He didn’t want to feel like this anymore, and he will no longer stand for it.

Scrooge has been thinking about it for days. He didn’t want to drop a huge bomb on them even if he’s been holding onto this. The old man sounded so tired, but he was careful about putting what he wanted in words.

He came to each topic slowly.

**Memories.** How some of it survived. Most of them were associated with Goldie. Scrooge couldn’t really comprehend why but he understood how they seem to come in mind. His memory loss was selective, not wiped off completely. He could tell you were family, but can’t tell you how you’re related. He would remember you as someone close but not your name, or the time you spent together.

An item, someone really important, or even just a routine he always would be a key to lead to those memories. Not all of them would come back. Small flashes of certain memories would. In this case, Goldie’s hair, as absurd as it is for the old miser (and till this day he doesn’t know why), was what triggered the effects. He remembered Goldie’s name in an instant and some of their history. Goldie snickered as he told about the hair to everyone, so did Donald and Louie. Beakley didn’t respond, but she slightly looked away.

Scrooge didn’t want to hear about it and instructed anyone who knew why because he wanted to find it out himself even if he was going to make a fool of himself.

**Home.** How he fits. Well, not quite. He didn’t fit here, or anywhere, at first. Everyone knew that. He knew that himself. But he was getting used to living here if this is what you call “living”. Scrooge admits everything was rather slow-paced, and the kids were hesitant but they agreed as well. 

This household was built for adventures, and they weren’t called the “Crazy Adventure Family” for no reason. For now, the kids held back from making that opinion since Scrooge didn’t want to go on adventures anymore after Shadow War.

Scrooge says he’s doing the best as he is able and thanked everyone for being patient with him…even if he didn’t really remember them as much. Of course, what happened next was predictable. They heartwarmingly teased the old man for being softer than the softies. He retaliated back with a “This is it, I was betrayed by my own family” jokingly as they finally broke into laughter.

For once, Scrooge had laughed so much in the past few weeks. In exaggeration, the old man might’ve re-opened his wounds and broke a few of his ribs again after that. 

Goldie found it reassuring to see him smile again. They all did. Although, she had to make it last a little bit longer. This was the opportunity to distract him from whatever was bothering him, and well from her. She eyed her nephew, Louie, then slowly looking back to Scrooge.

Luckily, Louie did understand what she wanted him to do.

‘ _Cashing in that favor, huh?_ ’Louie thought to himself.

“Say, why don't we do game night?” Louie taunted, sparking a fire in his great uncle’s eyes, “I need to get you back for that one time.”

“Nobody likes a sore loser, Louie,” said his grumpy uncle, still laughing.

“Says the one who lost the first time we played Scroogeopoly against each other!” The youngest exclaimed.

“Louie, you’ve lost every game ever since,” Huey added as his unamused gaze fell on his little brother.

“Hubert, whose side are you on!?”

“Unca, you always win,” Donald remarked, raising his voice, “There’s no point to this.”

“Eh? Is that so?” Scrooge’s hand almost covering his beak, looking so innocent a halo glowed around his head, “I guess no one here is **competent** enough.”

‘ _He took the bait,_ ’ Louie and Goldie glanced at each other briefly, while still keeping up their act. Meanwhile, Donald and the triplets widened their eyes. They gasped in offense glared at the rich duck’s devious smile.

“OH, YOU TAKE THAT BACK, OLD MAN!” Dewey shouted at the top of his lungs with such disregard of Mrs. Beakley’s rule 76: Inside Voices unless you’re in danger inside the house.

“Make me,” Scrooge growled, puffed out his chest and looked proud of his winning streak.

“Oh no,” Donald sighed, already knew where this was going with how riled up the boys were. It wasn’t long until the boys started chanting loudly, “Game Night. Game Night. Game Night!” and they ran out to the hall with Scrooge leading them.

Webby remained in her chair, dumbfounded to the events that just transpired. Her plate empty, almost resembling what she looked like. She immediately showed some response to what she was hearing, and only her.

‘Oohh. Blondie’s clever.’ Her best friend’s voice rang in Webby’s head, ‘Careful, Pink.’ 

“Well you know what they say, boys will be boys,” Goldie simply shrugged, her halo glowing more than Scrooge’s.


	2. learn that we are your legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scrooge ties some loose ends with his family but some ends got looser for Louie.  
> Meanwhile, Webby and Goldie make a plan for their upcoming adventure but they encounter someone from Goldie's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot in this chapter and my summaries aren't the best, but HAVE FUN! : )

In the distance, the ambiance of the halls was disturbed by the rushing steps of an old miser, a duck with the worst luck, and three ducklings that were up to no good. The floorboards creaked with such explosive excitement as if adventure were leading them to find the board games in the mansion like a treasure chest found at the end of an ancient map. Scrooge’s adrenaline found its way to his soul, sparking a flame in him. Oh, this may not be a dangerous, daring adventure but what fun it was, leading these troublemakers to god-knows-where.

Maybe he should start going on adventures again when he’s fully recovered when he’s ready to be out there! Well, Why doesn’t he start now? There wasn’t anything stopping him at this moment!

He smiled, briefly looking back to see these no-good miscreants. Behind him was Huey, Dewey, and Louie. At the very back, there was Donald Duck. 

It felt so natural. This was where he belonged.

Huey’s running stance was balanced, a bit behind from Dewey, that adventurous spunky lad. However, Louie couldn’t keep up as well his brothers since he wasn’t very physically fit for any of this but Donald is helping him catch up. Donald’s speed is far more slowed down than what Scrooge thought his nephew had, he seems to not be giving his all for now.

He looked ahead then it came to him. He almost lost his footing, causing him to stumble on the floorboards.

“Woah- Unca!” Donald called out to him concerned, “Are you ok?”

“I-I’m fine—“Scrooge responded as if it was an automatic response to the question. He wasn’t. He hasn’t been ok for a long, long time, and it all came to him so suddenly. The reason why he called them downstairs in the first place. 

Scrooge knew something was missing. _Someone_. He knows who. He remembered... who.

“Della,” Scrooge muttered her name, abruptly stopping in his tracks. 

“What..?” Dewey’s voiced cracked, afraid of what he just heard. He took Scrooge with him not long after. The two both tumbled down and found themselves on the floor. Huey attempted not to join them and leaped back, bumping to Louie. Donald was there to catch the youngest of the boys before some other mishap took place. 

“..What did you say?”Dewey whimpered. His measly but tough body sat up, minding his uncle’s injuries. Scrooge remained on the ground, his eyes closed then regretfully, it opened. 

“I know about the Spear of Selene,” Scrooge exhaled, finally managing to speak up, “...Ah, this was what I was going tae talk about downstairs, but you rascals successfully managed tae get me distracted with game night.”

The old man didn’t look at the boys, waiting for them to do something. Anything.

Huey was just as stunned as the middle child. They were both speechless. Donald looked guilty as if he was associated with some big crime, an accomplice to the discovery. Louie’s cold and calculating gaze switched to a perplexed one, then it became so clear to him now.

This has always been the reason. Their mother and that damn rocket was always the reason.

“Know or remember?”Louie asked grimly but concerned about his great uncle’s mental state. 

“...A little bit of both.”

“...How? How did you..” the lazy child mewled.

“It’s easy tae put two and two together. There are three boys I never got to raise for the last 10 years, and their uncle is my nephew. Where was their mother?” Scrooge laughed sadly.

“Oh Uncle Scrooge…” Dewey recalled having said something of the sort that night at the hospital.

“Don’t be sorry, I found out by myself. You just laid out the pieces and I solved the puzzle.” Scrooge brushed it off as if it was no big deal when it should be. No, it’s been a big deal for a long time, they just didn’t know how to deal with it. 

“I never got tae see your first steps, hear your first words, well— it wouldnae matter anyway since I don’t remember a thing at all now.”

“Don’t say that,” Huey whined.

“I need tae say it, and we need to talk about it. Communication isn’t my forte but I donnae want to keep this going. I want to be **here** with you, not stuck on some past mistakes I cannae even recall!” 

Neither of them said anything, but Donald slowly approached the old miser, offering his hand to help him up. Scrooge looked to his nephew blankly, and both exchanged a glare, one sorrowful, and one clueless. 

“Donald, dear nephew,” Scrooge happily pleaded, “Please don’t cry.”

“Why would I cry?”Donald asked as if he didn’t already know the answer to his own question.

“You know why,” he replied, taking Donald’s hand and pulled his nephew down with him. The sailor was dumbstruck, realizing his uncle’s wings enveloped around his shoulders. 

“You—“Donald huffed, gritting his teeth, repeatedly landing a blow on his uncle’s chest “-are the most RECKLESS, STUBBORN, ARROGANT, SELFISH— -“

“I know.”

“YOU DON’T!”Donald exclaimed, nearly choking on his sobs, “You… don’t- you didn’t.”

“...Donnie, my boy. N-not the ribs, please. _Why is it always the ribs?_ ”

“Oh, calling me _that_ doesn’t HELP,” Donald paused then proceeded to laugh darkly, rolling over and away from Scrooge, “God, it’s too early to have a family crisis.”

“That whole sequence just felt like a soap opera,” Louie added, offering both of his arms to help both of his messes of uncles on the floor.

“Only in McDuck Manor, kids,” Donald shrugged, taking his nephew’s hand the same time Scrooge does. They both sat up, although Scrooge more in pain, hysterically laughing at the claim. Donald shook his head at this, looking away and found it ridiculous. His uncle really hasn’t changed despite everything that’s happened.

  
“So…..Uncle Scrooge,” Dewey crossed his arms, sitting on his legs, “I promised you that we were gonna tell you stuff about-- Um, mom when you were out of the hospital.”  
“And you didn’t even care to mention that?” questioned Huey.

“There’s a lot of things going on, ok? After we found out where Mom’s stuff was, I completely forgot!” The blue one complained.

“No rush, Dewey,” Scrooge assured him, then joked, “It’s only been a month and a half of yours truly… apparently being in house arrest.”

“Harsh,” Louie commented.

“You found Della’s stuff?” Donald frowned, confronting Huey, the eldest of the three.

“Yeah, the early blueprints of the Spear of Selene, and tapes she left behind in a room that was her study? I think?” 

“We could...start there if you’d like,” Dewey tackled the old man with a hug.

“... I’d love that,” gently, lovingly, Scrooge nodded.

Dewey led them to Della’s study as Huey held Scrooge’s hand happily for support. Donald follows, and so does Louie. Unlike his brothers, the sailor noticed the youngest one seemed to reluctantly trudged, dragging his little webbed feet to follow them. Donald supposed for him it’s too early for all this emotional mushy stuff. Even as a toddler, Louie was never good at conveying emotions as well as his siblings. 

Donald slowed down once again to match Louie’s speed, “Louie?”  
Louie didn’t answer, but he gave him a seemingly genuine smile to his Uncle. Donald smiled back at his nephew, patting his head. 

“...I’m here when you’re ready to talk, you know.”

“I know, Uncle Donald,” Louie meekly answered, “......Thanks.”

Louie sped up, leaving Donald behind him. He wasn’t ready and Donald knew that. Louie hardened himself even more as he entered the room. 

  


This was the first time Louie had stepped foot in it, you see. He mostly was at the door, looking at Huey and Dewey marvel at everything their mother owned. It was the same when they showed Scrooge now. Huey was excited about the blueprints of the several concepts of her inventions, eyes sparkling with wonder that his mother was capable of some engineering like him! He showed his great uncle all these, and the old miser did find some familiar. But before Scrooge processed it, Dewey held the tapes in front of his face. Each one was labeled with a date and a title. The tapes were entitled with obvious and literal names, some were called, “Scrooge’s 137th birthday”, “Piano lessons”, “Pranking Duckworth and FAILING MISERABLY”, “Donald’s boyf The Three Caballeros’ first gig”, “Della’s first flight”, “I HAVE SONS”, and such. Donald took the tapes where it had his name, embarrassed of it. One, in particular, Scrooge has had a glimpse of that night when he found out about Della, that one tape Dewey left playing as he fell asleep: “SOS Test Run 1”. Scrooge admits he’s seen that one, confessing to the blue child.

SOS Test Run 1… was the last tape Della had recorded on Earth. It was the last missing piece to his puzzle. The contents of it weren’t enough. It wasn’t enough to explain anything but a plan to take the Spear of Selene for, as the title suggested, a test run. In the tape, Della was ecstatic about the idea and she ended it that way as well. Scrooge didn’t even want to think about it even further.

“Whaaat? When?”

“That night when I found you passed out here and carried you to your bed. Your brothers were awake when I entered.”

“He was here?” Huey eyed Dewey, “You were watching tapes without us?”

“....Yeahhhhhhhhhh,” said Dewey overwhelmed with guilt.

Huey didn’t know what to feel whether to be disappointed or betrayed, but he’s sure he didn’t mean any harm, like the events of that mess in _Castle McDuck_ , so he let this one go this time. It’s not a big deal, not as much as the Sunchaser. However, Louie resented this but he was very good at hiding it. He was a con-artist, after all, managing to even fool his family about the matter. Although, he remained silent because, despite everything that’s happened, Dewey was just his brother- his naive brother that even Louie has sometimes asked himself how the adventurous 

lad was older than him. 

Scrooge was amazed by this room, the history (and cobwebs) brimming at every corner, delighted at each discovery. There was one last thing to uncover in the room, the piano. The billionaire strode towards the piano then pulled the sheet off of it, causing him to have a minor coughing fit.

“Oh yeah, there’s that piano. I guess she’s good at the piano too, huh?” stated Huey.

“Singing was more like her thing,” Donald interrupted.

“She can sing too?!”Dewey screamed as he believes that he is the musical child between the three.

“The piano’s for Scrooge,” the sailor added.

“Scrooge CAN PLAY THE PIANO?!”

“I can?” Scrooge uttered, raising a brow.

“Well...When we were 7, Della got Scrooge to buy the piano and they both learned how to play it. She threw a bit of a fit though when Scrooge picked it up faster than her.” Donald explained, holding back tears, laughing because of the memory, “So yeah, you’re better at this than Della did, but you do sing sometimes.”

“Huh, the more you know, I suppose,” the old man articulated.

“Well, maybe you could try playing the piano, Uncle Scrooge!” the red one offered the suggestion.

“What makes ye say that?”

“Maybe... you’ll remember something? Which is a good thing, right?”

“I guess that’s reasonable…” He sat on the chair, hitting a few of the piano keys. 

Scrooge paused and stared blankly for a moment, observing how much the piano has aged. There were stains on some of the keys. It resembled tears. Silently, melancholically, he wondered, did this belong to him? He looked up to the sheet music. Illegible handwriting- must’ve been written in a rush or when the twins were in a such a young age. The stains found on the keys, were also to be found on the paper. He remembers this tune, how it goes, and Della’s… melody. This song, she used to sing all the time, humming it every chance she got.

A song about family and adventure, about the places that will go beyond our world, about loyalty and assurance. A song she wrote and modified once the boys were almost due to hatch. A song that she’s supposed to be singing to her sons right now if it weren’t for that damn rocket taking her away.

A song for them.

A song of hope and love.

A song for me.

Scrooge started to play the song’s opening notes, unaware of it. He hummed the nostalgic tune, Donald instantly recognized it, shocked. His great uncle stopped a second time, taking a deep breath. He played the notes again, gently, his fingers reached the keys. This time… he sang along with the sorrowful notes bittersweetly.

_“Look to the stars, my darling baby boys..._

_Life is strange and vast, filled with wonders and joy._

_Face each new sun, with eyes clear true…_

_Unafraid of the unknown, because I’ll face it all with you.”_

He couldn’t remember the rest of it, but she always sang this bit to the boys before they hatched. To his surprise, his eyes had swollen up because of this corrupted memory. He shrunk as if he was a kid again, some fragile thing that was on the verge of breaking.

“She should’ve been the one singing this to you…if it wasnae for me.” He admitted, heartbroken of this fact.

“If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have known about this,” Dewey cried hugging his great uncle from behind,”...thank you for playing for us.”

“For once, Dewey’s right,” Huey joined the hug and….

What transpired next was predictable and the natural response, but one had exited the room to escape it. **_All of it._ ** The mushy stuff was getting overwhelming, and repetitive for that one. This wasn’t his thing. It’s too… too much for Louie to handle so he left. Everyone’s so fucking touched about this because it was Della Duck, right? 

What was he supposed to do or feel about that? He’s supposed to be happy and sad and all that emotional bullshit about that song? Because _his mom_ wrote that? 

Their mom who left when she knew that they were about to hatch? Their mom, who they have no memory of, that was such an amazing accomplished person when she was around? Their mom, who loves them so much, chose to launch herself into space without considering the consequences? Della Duck, the supposed daring and strong aviator, diving headfirst into danger without a thought to the damage she leaves behind? How should he even begin to feel about Della when everything about her wasn’t—Ugh!

_‘People focus on the good things when they’re dead_ ,’ the youngest thought, stomping his feet to the kitchen, and ‘ _they stop thinking about all the bad.’_

_‘I’ll face it all with you,’_ Louie repeated it like a broken record in his head. ‘ _She’ll face it all with us, she says, but where was she right now?’_

He’s had enough of it.

It was always her. She was always the reason for everything that’s happened right now, right? Donald took them as eggs because his sister chose adventure over the family. Scrooge almost bankrupting his company to find her, had he not been stopped it would’ve ruined him. Not only did that cost him a loss of a huge amount of money, but the emotional damage she caused on both parties as well. Della Duck was to blame! It has to be! 

He entered the kitchen, and shut himself in the pantry where no one can see him. All logic came back as the green one sat in the corner next to some canned foods, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He calmed himself down...and noted..

_Della couldn’t have known she’ll get lost in space after taking the ship for a test run._

_She couldn’t have known she won’t be coming back to raise her own children_

_She couldn’t have known that this would happen._

_She couldn’t have known like how Scrooge couldn’t have known._

_She couldn’t have known._

The child tried to make that a reason. That she couldn’t have known, but **he** couldn’t have known that for sure. Because she’s not here. He doesn’t know her like he knew Scrooge, and he will never get that chance.

It didn’t sit well for Louie, at all. Because What if—What if all he had been thinking were true? His brothers wouldn’t have known that, Donald, Scrooge either! What if she left because she didn’t want them at all? What if she didn’t want him at all?

Instead of game night or finding more about his mother, Louie hid in the pantry… all day, hiding his own doubts from everyone else, and his tears continued to fall while hidden away from the outside world.

How was he supposed to feel about that?

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Bing._

The phone in the old lady’s pocket lit up and sang a short, sweet tune. She unlocked the phone to scroll through a conversation that dated back for months. The screen displayed a name and picture of the well-known evil triplet, Louie McDuck. He wears a cunning smile and wears a crown that he stole from the bin in the picture displayed. His display name on her contact was respectfully and appropriately titled “Little Shit” for obvious reasons.

_Little Shit: whats the sitch, ice queen_

From the other side of the screen, Louie snickered as the lady seemed to be having the “...” longer than it should have. Eventually, it stopped, then shortly after a reply has been received. That lady was Goldie O’Gilt. In Louie’s contact, her picture was one that he took that was without her permission or knowledge. It displayed her looking at Scrooge from a distance, smiling. Her display name was Glitter Goddess, with a sparkle emoji at each end, some inside joke between the two.

_Glitter Goddess: Funny._

_Little Shit: got away safely tho? didnt hear anything from ms b yet_

_Glitter Goddess: Yeah. We boarded a train. Beakley knows._

_Little Shit: holy shit u asked permission from ms b?????:o_

_Glitter Goddess: No. But that woman knows everything, especially when it comes to her granddaughter._

_Little Shit: lmaoooo good luck_

_Glitter Goddess: Webby doesn’t know she knows._

_Little Shit: yea that’s just standard webb. i just play along tho_

_Glitter Goddess: Did you know about this Lena thing?_

_Little Shit: ...yea :( just a little bit._

_Glitter Goddess: Ok._

_Little Shit: um btw_

_Glitter Goddess: ?_

_Little Shit: u wouldn’t happen to know abt scrooge finding out abt mom or smth?_

_Glitter Goddess: No. I didn’t even know that_ **_that_ ** _was eating him up the past few days. Now it makes sense._

_Little Shit: well ngl its easier to bullshit when texting_

_Glitter Goddess: Not bullshitting you, little man._

_Little Shit: so u didnt even get a hint or anything? with all thE TIME UR SPENDING WITH YA BOI_

_Glitter Goddess: Didn’t want to assume or pry for Scrooge’s sake._

_Little Shit: kkkkkkkkk_

_Glitter Goddess: Sometimes, it’s best not to corner a wounded animal, dear Llewelyn._

_Little Shit: ughhh i said okayyyyyyyyyyyy_

_Little Shit: u rlly out here with a heart of gold, goldilocks_

_Glitter Goddess: Hey. Guess what?_

_Little shit: what_

_Glitter Goddess: Fuck off._

_Little Shit: HAHA DKJFKSHDKSJFJ_

_Little Shit: KSJDKSJDKHD_

_Little Shit: LSJFKSHDKHDKSH_

_Glitter Goddess: Stop that._

_Little Shit: UwU_

_Glitter Goddess: What the fuck is UwU._

_Glitter Goddess: Remind me why I haven’t blocked your number in the first place_

_Little Shit: im a little shit :)_

_Glitter Goddess: So you’re aware._

_Little Shit: but_

_Little Shit: im a_

_Little Shit: little shit that_

_Little Shit: ur very fond of_

_Little Shit: and wuv very much UwU_

_Glitter Goddess: Young man, you are the bane of my existence._

The little girl sitting next to her, noticed a chuckle coming from the old lady. It’s considered rude to look over one’s shoulder when it comes to texting or phones in general. She learned it firsthand from Louie.

“Who are you talking to?” Webby curiously asked.

“Louie.” Goldie responded to her question.

“Ohhh, okay.” the little girl answered in realization, crossing her webbed feet. She smiled, it finally hit her that the Ice Queen of Dawson actually agreed to keep her company for the rest of their adventure. Not a lot has been said after they snuck out, but Webby didn’t really mind. She loved awkward silences anyway.

She took this time to observe her surroundings. The only public transportation the little girl has ridden were the city buses, nothing else. The trains were much more different than them. Faster, smoother, the train more spacious. It was 5 in the afternoon. The sun was about to set, coloring the canvas of the sky with orange, yellow, and red hues. The boys back home are probably busy with Game Night or at least, with something. They always were in a world of their own, that family.

‘The beach looks nice from here, doesn’t it? Pink?’

_Yeah_ , she thought, _I’ll get us back to the beach soon, Lena._

Goldie’s phone still kept ringing in the distance, hopefully, it was the last time.

_Little Shit: o shit gtg, ms b found me hiding in the pantry_

_Glitter Goddess: You will be missed, Your Majesty._

_Little Shit: pls take care of webb and leens_

_Glitter Goddess: Not gonna let anything happen to them. Watch over Moneybags for me. You know the drill._

_Little Shit: will do. bye. save me some treasure_

Goldie finally shut her phone and looked to Webby. Webby seems to have started to look through her notes as Goldie had gotten a glimpse on a page; she looked away out of respect for the little girl.

“So What are your plans, little voyager?”Goldie disturbed the silence.

“Well! Now would be a great time for that right?” She slammed the book afterward, laughing awkwardly, “I only told you about Lena being my shadow and everything about Shadow War right? You know how it all happened and all that.”

“Just that.”

“I’ve been holding out on you.. with that…”

“Well, Whenever you’re ready, Webby.” Goldie referred to her name for once.

“I…..” Webby’s… voice changed, or at least altered, sounding as if it was an amalgamation of two voices, “We just really need your help separating us.”

Goldie sat there as she re-examined the girl, staying composed. The logical answer for “we” was that Lena, her best friend, probably was apart of Webby now. Given the circumstances, the amalgamation seemed to be either a struggle or a harmonious reply. 

“Lena?”Goldie guessed. In response, Webby’s eyes changed into those wicked pupils that resemble so much of Lena’s progenitor, Magica de Spell. Golden, yellow, slit eyes in huge contrast to Webby’s soft pink eyes.

“Yep, that’s me.” She winked, using Webby’s body to do so. Her voice was a huge shift from the spunky little girl’s higher-pitched tones.

“So is this some type of possession for shadow magic?”

“Hm, well, we’re WAY past that.” Lena and Webby say, then switched back to Lena’s, “You’ve dabbled in magic before, Goldie. So you’re the only one we can ask for help with this.”

“What makes you so sure I’ll help?”

“We’re kids and you like us... and well, we're already on the train.

“Oh, you’re both banned from seeing Louie from now on,” the woman with blonde locks replied darkly, then inquired, “That’s not gonna cut it.”

“Ok,” Lena’s voice came out of her, finally getting to the reason, “We heard you spent some time in Demogorgana, and even managed to snatch the eye of Demogorgon while you were at it. You obviously couldn’t have entered and exited from that dimension without magical means.”

“We… really don’t know what to do,” Webby looked down, “And whatever this is seems to be getting worse, it’s like we’re merging together. I mean! Don’t get me wrong! I love Lena being here with me but… not like this.”

“I don’t think this is a good thing,” Lena and Webby both sighed then pleaded, “We really need your help. Please.”

“Webby tried to do this all on her own at first, and it’s my fault, and all we did was… waste time…”Lena blamed herself, the tone of her voice going softer.

“I don’t know how long we have but… I don’t think we have that much time left, being ourselves,” Webby dropped the inarguable truth right in Goldie’s face.

“ _I’m scared_ ,” their voices cried to her as if she was her last hope.

Goldie was distraught about the reveal, thinking of how these kids have been dealing with this alone all this time, right after the Shadow War. Hell, this family has been a mess even before she stepped foot in it. These two are just kids, and they’re going through so much shit. How long have they been keeping this from Scrooge? 

The old lady didn’t say anything, but she embraced the little girl. Goldie didn’t know why, but she just did. I think… this was a yes, a promise. 

“Louie was right,” Webby responded to this, “You have a heart of gold, after all, just like Uncle Scrooge!”

“Hey, don’t give me away,” Goldie simply laughed at that, “I have a reputation to maintain.”

“I'm so sorry about the crossbow this morning."

"You don't need to apologize. I get it."

The train slowly halted at its tracks, slowing down at its platform.

_“This is your conductor speaking: We've reached Spoonerville.”_

“Spoonerville?” Lena inquired. They both stood up as the doors opened. People started to crowd the exits. Goldie hastily got out of there, holding Webby’s left hand tightly so she doesn’t get separated from her. 

As they both found their way out of the madness of all of it, the sky had already turned dark. The station was almost empty as the rest boarded the train back to Duckburg. The cool evening air was refreshing, leveling their heads. Spoonerville wasn’t like Duckburg, it was more of a town than an industrial city.

“Yeah,” Goldie answered the inquiry, “I own quite a few apartments, and one of them is here in Spoonerville.”

“It’s surprisingly near Duckburg. Gee, I wonder why.” Lena started to catch on, finally feeling less claustrophobic from all of the people there. 

“I don’t like your tone, young lady.” Goldie played coy, though her grip remained firm. Goldie’s walking pace was quicker, since it was dark out. I’m afraid it was out of habit. Spoonerville was no St. Canard, but night time was a rule of Goldie’s to avoid when she has someone with her. Webby (and Lena) were just kids, and it's dangerous to be out at night. 

The apartment was about a few blocks away from the train station- a walk would take a half-hour if she was- they were fast enough. Both haven’t eaten since they snuck out. There are some diners on the way, she could take some meals to go on the house since the owners were her good friends. What about pizza? Is the pizza place still open? It’s been a long time since she had someone to look after other than Scrooge. 

“…kie.. This is a bad idea….” Goldie made out a distant voice from behind Webby and her, a voice that belongs to a little girl. She did not speed up though her defenses were turned up higher than before. Webby noticed that Goldie’s grip tightened, listening with her in the direction of the voice. How long have they been followed?

“Violet, please not now.” Another voice of a kid, sounding slightly older emerged, whispering loudly.

“We’re gonna get in a lot of trouble! We’re not supposed to be here. ”

“Always a stickler for rules, Vi.”

“Rules exist for a reason!”

“You’re talking as if you weren’t interested in that little girl she’s with.”

‘ _Talking about me?_ ’ Goldie heeded this in silence, without showing a physical response. _‘No sudden moves yet, Goldie. They aren’t really subtle though.’_

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean we tail them all the way up to Spoonerville! That’s called **_STALKING_ ** . Besides you don’t know if that woman really is _her_ , Dickie!”

“That’s why we’re here. I need to be sure about---”

“About what?” Goldie turned around, putting on her cold, intimidating voice she’s known for.

In front of her were two harmless kids. One was a colored duckling in her late teens, wearing white sneakers, jean shorts along with a familiar red oversized flannel tucked in. Her hair was bobbed, a part of it braided; it seemed to be brown unruly hair dyed with a blonde color. The other was a hummingbird, maybe her age is in the same range as Webby’s. She wears a green turtle in contrast to her feathers of blue and purple hue.

“I…” The one in the flannel, her voice matched as Dickie as the other child called her, stuttered,“I wanted to be sure about you.”

“About me?”

“Are you Goldie O’Gilt?”

“....What if I am?” reluctantly, Goldie replied.

“I’m Dickie Blackjack. I’m your granddaughter.”

“Wait- whaaaAAAAAT?” Webby’s eyes widened to the max, her jaw dropped, screaming at Goldie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : ))))))))))))))))))))))))))))


	3. family matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn’t able to do the consistent weekly update bc school just threw me inside a dumpster, and was never seen again. I managed to power through despite having such a bad time last week! Really enjoyed writing some parts of this chapter. Hope you like it :)

**Granddaughter**. Definition of the word: a daughter of one’s son or daughter. In this case, one’s daughter. Goldie was this child’s grandmother, possibly, if this was the case.

**One’s daughter.** This Goldie O’Gilt, the one whose nickname from her Scrooge was Aurum, never married, nor has she successfully laid an egg in her life. In her years, she wasted it all with all of her tricks, lies, and ‘having fun’ to put it in her words. Her moral compass, rusty, it points to no specific direction but her own. There was no north, south, east, west, just Goldie.

This became the most relevant truth in the early 60s to the late 80s, her days as Agent 53.

If the Klondike was the prime of both Scrooge and Goldie’s lives, SHUSH was the period they’ve probably departed from they were and went beyond that point. Rivaling Scrooge’s wild, reckless and loose nature as he worked for SHUSH, there comes Goldie’s amplified chaotic, unpredictable, and relentless disregard for all of the agency’s protocols, even more so than her old flame. Regular SHUSH agents frowned upon this type of behavior as they were mostly by the book, there are some that tolerate it (like dear ol’ Agent 22 paired up with our wild Scrooge McDuck) but can only tolerate so much.

Assignments with Goldie always ended up being a mess. The thieving troublemaker, as that word always suggests, would cause the most unnecessary trouble. Consequently, the agency gave Goldie a different work routine. The woman was never a fan of playing well with others, so they only assigned her temporary partners. She did have the aptness of aggravating everyone else on purpose, including her bosses. But it’s not her fault! You see, she’s here because SHUSH wanted her to be, so the Shining Star of the North will give you her best effort to make sure you enjoy and have the front seat of the show.

One more thing that made her different from the rest of them though?

**Goldie** **_always_ ** **gets what she wants if she wills it so.**

  1. _1982_. _Las Vegas, NV, USA._



“How could anyone like you be a SHUSH agent?” The FOWL agent she interrogated spoke, as Goldie’s smaller figure loomed above them. The villain was someone forgettable, in fact, she can’t even remember their face. Just the words. How the conversation slithered her sharp, venomous tongue. I supposed she can remember vividly what she wore that night though.

Yes. That’s right- the woman was wearing formal dress, a dress made from silk and satin, crimson torn through the white surface of the ruffles, sliding off her left shoulder. Her hair just started to gray. She was in a party, don’t really how to distinguish from the countless parties she crashed but she went undercover for it. It took place in a casino, she could only remember that because of the strong scent of tobacco that embedded her dress.

The mission was to get the information about an artifact that can produce immense raw power that can warp reality but at the expense of the user, The Crown of the Lost. SHUSH didn’t want to let that fall into the other agency’s hands. Goldie wasn’t the first choice, but the assignment did come to her and she, for whatever reason, accepted.

“Shhhh! I’m the one asking questions,” sadistically, Goldie hummed, giggling to herself, “I’m certain you have the information I want about a certain relic SHUSH has been trying to acquire for years.”

“Like I’d give anything to SHUSH.”

“Aw sweetheart. You must be new. I’m Agent 53, and if I don’t get what I want, then let’s play a game, shall we?” suggested the woman, her voice fueled with such hostility.

“Game?”

As she reached for her ankle, Goldie brandished a revolver in her hand. Though unloaded, she’s used to holding one, but usually just to scare off people back in the day. She’s not afraid to make the shot if she needed to.

“Let’s play russian roulette! One bullet out of six rounds. I spin every time you don’t give me the answer I want.” She spun the round cylinder that held the bullet, at random, it stops. She pointed it to the villain tied up.

“Your silly protocols aren’t going to let you do that, dipsh—” _Bang_. Nothing.

“Wrong answer! Do I look like I follow SHUSH protocols?” Her comment sank in maniacal laughter, it would be foolish if it hasn’t started to frighten you. She spun again.

“-Are you fucking insane? That could’ve-” _Bang_.

“In this sense, I must be!” She spun again delightfully.

“N-“ _Bang_.

“You didn’t even let me finish!”They cowered.

“Interesting! You think your luck can’t save you?”

“Why would you rely on dumb luck for this?!”

“Right. Right!” Goldie let out an unhinged laugh, spinning the barrel, “Of course! But it’s the only thing you have to rely on if you want to hold onto your precious life!”

_Why would you rely on sheer dumb luck?_ The mentality reminded the woman of someone who thought the same. Scrooge McDuck would’ve said that, and would just tell everyone all about his hard work, and how much he did it. Obviously, you just shouldn’t rely on luck unless you’re some walking breathing lucky charm. Goldie knew this well.

In actuality, Goldie had been keeping track of where the bullet was everytime she spun. She’s the Ice Queen of Dawson, but getting blood on her hands was too far for an interrogation. Although, it’s amusing to see the terrified looks on their faces once they think you’re for real.

“Wanna try your luck again?” mischievously, the lady spun one more time, directing the revolver to the villain’s head.

“Okay! OKAY! You win,”—Goldie suddenly halted from pulling the trigger. Like they’ve said, the victory was hers, and the glittering woman smiled menacingly.

They confessed to the coordinates of the FOWL base that held and secured the artifact, not far off from the Amazon. Thank Rosa this man thought his life was worth more than defending FOWL’s secrets, or things would’ve gotten messier for old lady— well, for both of them really.

Goldie finally pulled the trigger.

It _misfired_ . **_That mischief-making minx did it on purpose—_ **“Thank you for your cooperation! You’re my hero~”

The last thing that guy remembered after those words was getting hit by the handle of that wretched gun. Knocked out. She left that poor guy unconscious, and let them loose out of the ropes, She pulls out a memory-erasing ray, entering the words: Agent 53, blasting their brain with it.

Goldie gleefully exited the room into the hallway that led to the parking space. Out there, a limo awaited her. She opened the door.

“What’s the special occasion that even you had to personally give me the casefiles yourself?” She asked, retaining her delightful smile.

“That was not the proper behavior of a SHUSH agent, 53.” Her boss, the co-director of SHUSH, sat at the other end, carrying folders of her updated case file.

“Oh Von Drakey, I wasn’t even gonna shoot!” Goldie shrugged, fooling around with the old man, “Besides, the bullet I put in wasn’t even the right size for my gun.”

“Why yes,” Ludwig expressed, “However, playing russian roulette as an interrogation tactic and endangering one’s life, is against protocol, even if it’s a FOWL agent. Your mission didn’t require that kind of-”

“ **_Foul_ **play?” Goldie jested, pun intended, “What good am I if I start playing the heroics?”

“Director Hooter does have a hero department, and he’s the one I’m entrusting the agency now. That’s why I’m here to give the last mission I’ll ever hand to you,” he hands her the folder.

“Oh?” That took her by surprise, _he’s retiring_ , “Hit it off a little too well with Matilda then?”

“I suppose you could say that,” Ludwig thinks about the three children he had with his wife, Matilda McDuck, looking at Goldie unamused, “Not settling down anytime soon?”

“Scrooge and I aren’t anything to begin with.”

“I didn’t _even_ mention Agent McDuck at all.”

“... Shut up. _You married his sister_. I know what you meant by that. Don’t even joke.”

The folder obviously contained something. Heavier than a normal casefile- there were two manila envelopes. She opened the one that looks like it’s someone’s handwriting, Matilda’s perhaps? And another envelop inside that-- _No fucking way._

It was her letter to Scrooge after the Dawson fire. The seal was not broken- Scrooge- Well, nobody read it, then? Ugh, She can’t even remember what she wrote in that thing. How did her boss even..? What?

“I won't be here to protect you anymore when you decide to steal artifacts that you were supposed to retrieve,” said the old scientist.

“I can handle myself.”

“I know **_that_ ** very well but not a lot of people can handle you.”

“Hmph,” Goldie interjected, “Gonna miss your sad old scientist complaints too, Von Drakey.”

“Could’ve been nice, you know,” Ludwig softly whispered, “If it was you and Agent McDuck, and had kids.”

 _‘A pipe dream at best,’_ Goldie thought to herself, laughing at the thought of her having kids. Besides if she did marry her old flame, she wouldn’t be able to give him _that_ anyway.

During this mission was when a certain rascal- she was about maybe a 6-7 year old little girl with no parents, who thought highly of herself to no end- tried to pickpocket and ransack her. Failing miserably, Goldie, in that small Amazonian village, turned the tables on her. Not to imply that she stole from a child, but really, it was vexing.

She grew to like her either way, but this was _never_ a Goldie thing. Children? No, dissociating was the best decision she could ever possibly think of. Where was I going with this?

Well, _it didn’t work_ no matter how hard she tried. She finally broke after the child followed her around for ages in this mission which she failed, getting full custody of her. Her name is Imelda O’Gilt.

About 37 years later, here she was- with her own granddaughter, finding about her own whereabouts. The consequence of fate having to be a fickle thing.

“Wait- WHAT?!” Webby’s gasp brought her back to reality. Oh...right. _What in the goddamn fuck._

“I’m sorry,” the old lady wrinkled her nose, _she didn’t want to do this_ , “You must be mistaken.”

“No,” Dickie quickly retaliated with a defensive reply, “You are Goldie O’Gilt, yeah? My mom’s Imelda Blackjack. Look I’ve seen the documents, and technically I am legally your granddaughter!”

‘ _Legally??_ ’ internally, the pink one screamed.

Nothing. There was just **_nothing_ **! Nothing she could do or say. Awfully convenient timing, like it was a scene in some fictional novel.

“Mel- _Imelda Blackjack_? Seriously?!” She suddenly realized the last name change, referring to her first business back in the Yukon.

“Well yeah...She said,” the girl in plaid started doing air quotes in her hand, “You’ll be super annoyed at what an obvious hint she dropped when you had a hard time… finding her?”

“ _Bitch_ ,” she remarked, not directing it to anyone, but boy, did she sound displeased, “Classic Melonhead. Always pushing my buttons even though I haven’t seen her for 20 years!”

“Did she just call your mom the b-word?” the hummingbird commented briefly. Before Dickie could grasp the situation, Goldie confronted

“Does your mom know you’re _here_ , Dickie?” her grandmother inquired, demanding her for an answer.

“N-No.”

She sighed with such exhaustion- _Of course_!

“We…” her granddaughter started feeling bad, “We can go back if this isn’t a good time. I’m sorry.”

“No.” _Ok it really wasn’t the best time at all but what the hell-_ “It’s too late now, anyway. Can’t have kids wandering around past their curfew.”

“O-Oh…”Dickie’s timid nature started to show up.

“Come on, girls, you can stay for the night, and we’ll talk this over pizza.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its not as long as the last chapter! but!! BIG LOVE!! I love Aurum a fuck ton and so yeah this chapter is mostly all about her. SHUSH days, adopted daughter, an oc of mine called Mel and a little but of granddaughter Dickie and ALL.
> 
> Don’t know how to show rather than tell. So it might be a lot to take in again! The next chapter is hopefully chill enough, so I don’t stress out with the plot skdjksjd
> 
> kudos and comments are well-appreciated <3


	4. dickie blackjack and violet sabrewing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i haven't seen you in two months,, this is a shorter chapter and it's more dialogue-heavy than the previous ones. i hope you enjoy aaa

The smell of pineapple pizza filled the scent of her apartment quite quickly, the tingy sweetness and sourness left an impression in her living room where the girls devoured the food.

Goldie owned this apartment complex and she had the top deck on its 12th floor. Fake greenery such as succulents, and cacti decorated it. Its lights warm; an orange yellow painted the calm vivacity of the penthouse contrasting the night’s blueness. Spoonerville nights were much more peaceful than the noisy Duckburg. Too quiet.

She sighed as the young girls all quietly settled over her living room, perched around her mahogany coffee table. Webby sat at the end, using a sitting cushion on the floor. The violet hummingbird and her friend sat over at the couch. Their bags were put over to the side: 2 backpacks, sling bag and a case of a ukulele that belonged to the blonde girl. Dickie’s things consisted of her clear backpack that revealed a pride flag of pink, blue, white, some college notebooks, and textbooks. 

“Coffee? er ...Tea? Juice? What do kids even drink in this decade?” Goldie asked the kids from across the open space as she opened the fridge. 

“Juice!” Webby responded quickly to her question.

“Ms. O’Gilt, What kind of tea if I may ask?” Violet requested.

“Just call me Goldie,” the woman insisted, “There’s Oolong, Earl Grey, Heather….  _ Nutmeg… _ Green Tea. A lot.”

_ ‘Nutmeg,’  _ Webby thought and she almost choked as she recalled that Scrooge’s favorite tea was Nutmeg tea.

“Oolong, please. Thank you.”

“Good choice…”Goldie hit the tab to her electric kettle after filling it up with water. “What… What about you, Dickie?”

“Oh! Um… coffee.” Dickie spoke up.

“... Decaf?” She teased her.

“What kind of idiot would drink decaf?” Dickie replied.

“Are you calling your grandmother an idiot?”

“W-What?”

“If I drank decaf, would that make me an idiot?” she says as if she even drank decaffeinated coffee.

“That’s not even the fucking poi-“ Dickie covered her mouth, “Ohohohohohoho, you’re doing this on purpose.”

Goldie smiled, setting the coffee maker to brew the coffee. The water filled it up fast, making an endless dripping sound. 

“It’s late so it’s decaf for you, young lady.”

“... Fine,” bitterly, Dickie agreed to disagree.

“Ok…” Webby interrupted, “WHAT JUST HAPPENED?”

“She really is your grandmother,” Violet commented as she watched the whole thing unfolded.

“... How did  **this** happen?” Webby gestured. 

“Yeah, Gigi,  _ How _ did it all happen?” Dickie sassed her, crossing her arms.

“Gigi?” She handed Violet her hot cup of Oolong tea.

“Would you rather have me call you my dear  _ Grandmama _ ?” she played off an English accent with the last word, vexing Goldie to some extent because… she was reminded a little bit of Beakley.

“Alright, Fair enough,” Goldie agreed as she was handing Webby a glass of apple juice she has from her fridge, “I’ll settle with Gigi then.”

Webby and Violet looked at each other still so confused as to why these two act as if they’ve known each other for years.

“Well, Allow me to introduce the spunky ball of pink over there,” the blonde woman pointed to Webby, “That’s Webbigail Vanderquack.”

“Dickie Blackjack… as you’ve heard.” the girl in the flannel kindly waved to her, smiling.

“Webbigail Vanderquack… of McDuck Manor?” the hummingbird reached a conclusion, “Trusted companion in many of Scrooge McDuck’s adventures?”

_ Trusted companion in many of Scrooge McDuck’s adventures. Trusted companion.  _ **_TRUSTED COMPANION._ **

“Oh—Gee—I-uh I don’t—“ nervously, Webby blushed at this, “I’m more of a faithful ward, yeah. Webby’s what I go by… Um.. You?”

“Violet Sabrewing. ” She offered her hand and Webby, a bit hesitant, smiles awkwardly and shakes it stronger than she should have.

_ ‘Oh for the hate of all shadows— _ ‘If Lena had her own physical form again, she would’ve been facepalming as she witnessed all this— well, in a way she still did. This was literally second-hand embarrassment. 

“And you’re Goldie McDuck,” Violet reached another conclusion, although baseless and reckless than the one with Webby.

“...Huh.” Goldie coldly replied, making sense of that. On the inside, let’s just say freaking out was the term to put it lightly. Dickie, however, caught that.

“Vi… n-n-no.” Dickie sheepishly shook her head.

“....It’s Goldie  **O’Gilt** , kid,” the ice queen let this one slide. The hummingbird was a child after all.

“Ah,” Violet realized her mistake, “My apologies, I didn’t know you and Mr. McDuck aren’t—“

“—Married? No, Scrooge and I never were.”

Violet shrank, and retreated back to let the old lady lead the way of the conversation. 

“So… Getting straight to the point,” Goldie started the interrogation, “What are you two girls doing here in Duckburg in the first place?”

“I live in Duckburg,” meekly, Violet answered.

“I’m crashing over at her house,” Dickie disclosed.

“And why is that?”

“...I’m studying at Calisota State University.”

“Really,” Goldie sounded unamused.

“Mom and Vi’s parents are good friends.”

The Ice Queen started to scowl, as she wasn’t being given any clear answers, “So out of all the colleges you could’ve attended in the whole world, you chose specifically  **_Calisota State University_ ** .”

“I got a scholarship and—“

“...”

“I chose that because I… wanted to find you.”

“And now you have,” appearing to be indifferent, Goldie indicated this, “What now?”

She… wasn’t counting on it working, but where Scrooge McDuck resided, a rumored old flame of her grandmother seemed like 

“I don’t know.”

Goldie didn’t pry any further, letting out a small groan. Dickie and Violet are staying the night and there was no point for her to be mad. It wasn’t in her nature to show vulnerability, in fact, there was a lot to deal with today and she was getting soft. 

The 2 pizza boxes had little food in it left. Their drinks empty. The elder took them and set them by the sink, Dickie followed her grandmother as she tried to escape the place by going into the balcony.

Cooler sights relaxed her eyes from the blinding lights behind her. October was here, and the nights were longer, far longer. It was Goldie’s favorite month of the year— The coolness setting, a sign that winter was coming. Pumpkin spice filling the air and festivities were about to begin. It was the month of Scrooge’s birthday; she celebrates with him.

It seems like she has so much work to do, she was going to miss his birthday again.

Sighing, Goldie lit a cigarette. It wasn’t long enough she heard the sliding door open.

“Mama wasn’t joking that you like being dramatic,” her granddaughter pointed it out from her behind, sharpening her tongue. Goldie didn’t appreciate that too much, and continued to pretend that Dickie wasn’t there. Obviously, that’s how you should always solve your problems the healthy way.

“Look, Gigi, Ever since I found out about you, I wanted to meet you,” meekly, Dickie spoke, “And well— I even dyed my hair blond.”

“...I can see that,” she grumbled, puffing a smoke from her beak as Dickie 

“Are you mad at me?”

“...No.”

“Why are you acting like you are?”

“I’m not responsible for how you think of me.”

“So you’re saying you don’t care about how I feel?”

“That’s not it.”

“...then can you please help me understand, Gigi,” Dickie leaned toward the balcony, slowly getting closer to Goldie.

“Melon-...Imelda never told you anything about me, did she?” She looked away in shame.

“No...”

“She ran away because I’m a horrible mother,” Goldie crowed, “..did she tell you that? She didn't want to be around me so she left, and I didn’t bother because she doesn’t want to be found.”

So she let her adopted daughter be.

No point in chasing after someone who doesn’t want to be chased.

Dickie remained speechless. No, her mother never told her that.How could she know anything about that when her own mother rarely talks about Goldie O’Gilt? Imelda even hid everything about her from Dickie but one picture, and a piece of clothing. 

Dickie didn’t know everything about her mother, and she didn’t tell her everything- she was okay with that since that was just her thing. (Now that she’s worked that out, it might even be a family thing) When she found out about her grandmother, being related to a legend that dated back to the Klondike Gold Rush, oh that was the most delightful evening she ever had as a child; keeping that knowledge too from her beloved mother.

O’Gilts were not difficult people to see through by Dickie. The reason she could? She was raised by one. Sure they’re tough, but not tough enough to the people they’re close to. Underneath all that ice, they have huge, beating hearts whether they liked it or not.

Running away was something she could get behind, but Dickie didn’t buy the assumption that her own mother did so because she thought of Goldie to be a horrible mother. 

**That** was never a reason to begin with.

Dishearteningly, Dickie complained, “Yeah..okay, I DON’T know how everything went down between you two, but  **holy shit** . NO. WRONG. That’s just wrong.”

Goldie was simply taken aback again by the response, not that she was expecting one. Her cigarette flew from her hand, causing to fall down from the 12th floor.

“You…” Dickie tried to calm down for a bit, she’s only met her grandmother today and she didn’t deserve this, “You and Mama need to talk when you’re ready. Not argue or pull some bullshit, just talk. That’s all I can say.”

Goldie silently complied, still not looking at her direction. Nothing could have ever prepared her for this. Your own granddaughter you didn't know that you had, recognizing you in public and approaching you with little information they can get? 

Some bridge you decided to burn yet this little one decided to build it back up again to you. She forgot the sense of pride she had in her own kin. There was so much in her in this child, she was terrified. Was this how Scrooge felt?

Dickie pulled her in for a hug, “Come back inside, Gigi. Let’s just talk…. You haven’t really told me why Webby’s with you or what you’re doing here. Gotta fill your end of the bargain.”

“Right…” Goldie hugged her back, gently,  _ What have I gotten myself into? _

“You guys are hugging, does it mean you’re cool now?” Webby barged in—- out, popping her head out from the door.

Dickie turned her head to Webby, “I forgot that’s glass, but I think we are now...right?”

Goldie exhaled and smiled, “...We are.”

“Anyway, is there really nothing going on between… you and Mr. McDuck?” She jabbed her elbow a little at Goldie.

“Yes, there’s nothing—“

“No, There’s something—,” Webby answered for her without any hesitation, but Lena abruptly covered her beak before she could continue.

“Hmmmm, so there is  _ something _ . Interesting.”

“God damn it.”

“THEY LOVE EACH OTHER A LOT!” Webby blurted out despite her inner Lena trying to stop her, “Just haven’t told anyone about how they are, and that’s all I can say.”

“So what, are you and Mr. McDuck dating and keeping it private?”

“...”

“So it’s complicated. Got it.” Dickie winked.

“How about we turn in for the night,” The elderly woman muttered, slightly pushing the girls inside.

Violet had been listening from a distance as Goldie locked eyes on her,  _ ‘She got an answer to the Goldie McDuck topic then’. _

“Webby and I are going to have a long day tomorrow— and you two are going straight back to Duckburg in the morning.”

“Wait no- I just met you— We can’t just go back yet.”

“It’s a weekday— you have school and all that stuff that kids do.”

“Well you dragged Webby over here to Spoonerville, shouldn’t she be at school?”

“I'm ... taking the week off,” Lena took over from here but disguised her voice more to be like Webby’s. It was foolproof.

“Yeah, I’m not buying this.” 

“BABY STEPS, Dickie,” Goldie urged her, patting her head. A joke that brushed of her granddaughter’s longing to spend some time with her long lost relative; the glimmer of doubt and disappointment started to cloud Dickie’s eyes. 

A look Goldie O’Gilt knew too well.  _ Ah, she’s hurt. _

“To tell you the truth as your grandmother,” sighing, as she hated to say that word, “I’m going on an errand with pink bow here, and I can’t let you come with me. You and that hummingbird both.”

“An errand..An adventure, you mean? Are we not enough for you?” Dickie’s bitterness started to slip out, feeling sorry right after she’s said what she thought.

“Nice to know you have a knack for firing back like your mother,” Goldie simply laughed at that, ‘I’m going to be lovingly blunt to you both.”

“ **_You will only slow me down._ ** ”

It was then, Dickie understood what was going on, and she groaned after a deafening silence, ‘.... _ Is she trying to protect me?’ _

“Alright. Thanks, Gigi. I love you soooo much despite knowing you for only one night,” Dickie dipped her very sincere response in sarcasm, but there was some truth in it, “We’ll go back to Duckburg if… you give me your number and promise that we’ll meet up after your ‘errand’. Deal?”

“Deal.”


	5. cold, but not heartless

_Zip._ Papers shuffled before sunlight. Frantically, the blonde teenager looked through her bag to skim the notes she took the day before. If it weren’t for following her grandmother going on a train (Barks knew they weren’t even sure if this woman REALLY was Goldie, basing it solely on a hunch), she would be in a classroom filled with tired university students and a professor in the middle teaching about things she already knew right now.

Dickie majored in biomedical engineering. Academically, she wasn’t struggling but the workload is almost taking a toll on her especially that she went into college at an earlier age. Dickie was used to handling things alone due to her mother’s unconventional work schedule that hindered time zones. Her mother would leave her money to buy something for herself. Let’s just say she was independent enough to wander around. 

She sighed, ‘ _Just not independent enough to wander around this far._ ’

The girl put her papers and notebooks back in her bag without waking Violet in the far side of the room. Quietly, she looks around. This room seemed familiar; there was just something about it.

She found the answer why moments later, rechecking her eyes to what she saw, but there it was. This room— it was not just a guest room. There were books here, old books from perhaps, a decade ago but… it wasn’t as old as Goldie. 

Dickie reached for one. The synopsis started- _‘Armageddon only happens once, you know. They don’t let you go around again until you get it right._ ’

Then the girl halted, as she found sloppy cursive on the front page after. That cursive unmistakably was her mother’s handwriting. She closed the book- then opened its covers again. Her mother WOULD read something like this. 

She **_has_ ** to wake up Violet for this, waddled (quite literally) back to where the poor bird was.

However, then and there she trips on her ukulele case on the ground; its strap trapped her leg, causing her to fall with her face flat.

A loud “OW FUCK!” woke Goldie up. The woman stood up from the couch, instinctively heading to the bedroom. However, the phrase that followed after her groan of pain was a cry of “NOOOOOOO, KALAAA, BABY!!”

It was then Goldie stopped in her tracks. She rubbed her eyelids, deep in thought. “Who in the fuck in Kala?” managed to escape from the old lady’s beak at 5 in the morning. 

The muffled sounds of grief were heard at the other side of the door. As comical as it was, Goldie had to take a peek of her granddaughter. There she was, on the floor, grieving for her child stringed instrument. The mahogany neck of the ukulele had snapped in two. The nylon strings were the only thing still holding it together.

She looked up to her confused grandmother with nothing but a pained expression. “I broke Kala,” she whispered loudly.

 _‘Kala_ ????????’ Goldie thought, displaying more confusion ever, ‘ _Did she name the damn instrument?_ ’

“Are you trying to wake the neighbors downstairs,” the woman briefly hushed her.

“I know she’s just worth 20 bucks, but I'm a broke ass millennial and I loved her like a child.”

“For the love of Rosa-- It’s too early for this, Dickie.”

“She was my first ukulele, GIGI.”

“I’ll buy you a new one! Just keep it down.”

Dickie gasped, “...Really?”

“Yes,” Goldie surrendered, “Just don’t break it.”

“Okay.” 

Finally, her granddaughter calmed down. They both exited out of the bedroom in order to not cause more noise.

“I was planning to leave quietly but,” she wiped her eyes after that whole sobfest, “I tripped.”

“Well,” Goldie replied, “You can’t really sneak from me.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to understand that,” putting on a monotone voice.

Goldie quickly fixed something for breakfast. Handing her a box of cereal from the pantry and getting the milk carton-- quickly taking a peek on the expiration date then giving it to Dickie. She double-checked just in case. 

“So…” Dickie started as she poured the milk in her bowl of cereal.

Goldie wondered, “So?”

“What’s going to happen now?”

“Once you’re ready to go,” she explained, “I’ll walk you and your friend to the station and make sure you get to Duckburg safely.”

“...Oh,” her granddaughter frowned, hoping that Goldie would change her mind.

“Don’t give me _that._ I made up my mind last night that you’re going back.”

“I was hoping you would sleep on it and want me to stay…?”

“We had a deal, kid,” her tone became cold again.

“It was worth a shot,” Dickie ate her cereal in a crotchety manner. Loud sips, and crunches just to annoy Goldie this early in the morning. 

The century-old adventurer sighed… “Dickie, I just got you and I don’t want to lose you.”

“But, Gigi, this isn’t how it should be. You’re just pushing me away.”

“...” She’s heard this before…

“It doesn’t have to be like this, you know?”

_It doesn’t have to be like this, Aurum,_ Scrooge’s voice rang in her mind with a familiar bittersweet tone.

“I know, Scr-“ She… was about to say his name, _‘Oh fuck.’_ Great timing, Goldie. Now your granddaughter has a lot more to tease you about.

Despite being sleep-deprived, Dickie still caught that, “You were going to say Scrooge, weren’t you? You _DO_ love him!”

“Ugh. Stop.”

“You’re not denying it!” She called her out for it, then gasped in realization, “Is that why you were checking your phone every 3 seconds? You were waiting for a text from your _boyfriend_?”

It was at this moment, Goldie had feared what it would be like if Dickie and Louie had met. Louie— she can still manage but if teamed up with Dickie… Well, She thought about it in silent horror. Then there was Lena, who was also a different world of her own from what she could tell. 

They would be a good team. Too good, and too chaotic. Not Even the Ice Queen would be able to stop them from what they can do.

“He’s not my..” Goldie denied it, pretending not to blush, “We’re not together. That’s _final_.”

“ _Right_.”

“That’s not how we all saw it is what Louie would say, ” Webby’s head poked out of the other bedroom where she slept in.

Dickie emitted the “OooooOoOoOooO” sound directed at the poor old lady.

“Sharpie isn’t here so go back to sleep, Webby,” blushing, Goldie tried to shoo her away because she is a loose canon when it comes to things like this (as demonstrated from the night before), “No child should be up this early in the morning.”

“Granny always woke me up at this time.”

“ _Jesus Christ_.” Beakley, for fuck sake, what were you doing? Training the next lieutenant for SHUSH?

“Your granny’s the housekeeper, right?” asked Dickie.

“Yeah,” the spunky child nodded then added, “She doesn’t like Goldie very much.”

“That’s to put it lightly,” the woman commented, “Don’t worry, I don’t ‘like’ her either. It’s mutual.”

With no delay, Violet followed. The girls continued to banter as the sun rose up from their backs. The radio was on, lightening the mood and occupying Goldie’s deafening silence instead.

It’s not like it was an uncomfortable silence. She couldn’t contribute nor did she want; The thief liked being by the sidelines. She liked not being brought up again in what she thought about the miser. How the miser was to her. A taboo subject.

Talking wasn’t a Goldie thing. The subject was not to be disputed, for it has been definite for quite some time.

The woman doesn't need to be reminded constantly about the things she could’ve had. Goldie… could’ve had the whole world in her hands if only she had let her guard down. People who loved her for her like Scrooge McDuck and his troublemakers.

She was… sorry for once.

Not clear what she was sorry about.

A stubborn proud woman like her rarely had regrets. She thought of this idea of belonging to a family as a pleasant dream. A warm, welcoming dream, and she let it only be a dream and nothing else. 

Maybe with this, it didn’t have to be. That could’ve been nice to have this more than a dream but… she has to wake up. 

* * *

In Spoonerville, whispers were common around Goldie O’Gilt, particularly with how she stood out being herself, a fine beautiful woman whose name the town was familiar with— but not anything else. None dared to ask about her past. She was just as mysterious as how the rest of the world sees her.

Last time she was seen here, an older-looking Goldie with another child, Imelda, followed her around. Growing up in that town, they were an odd mother-daughter duo that one. They’d disappear in road trips, and come back with bags of… heavy things. They would bicker a lot, but it wasn’t in a way that was hurtful. Not until they were older.

No one asked questions. As the mother of this frenzied hyperactive child, everyone thought of her intimidating. She was the only one who was able to say no to her sweet, lovely child.

“Miss Goldie! You’re back!” Except this one. He always asked questions. Whether he was stupid, or just oblivious to the rumors, Goldie had not pressed for that. She didn’t mind the fellow though.

“Goofy,” Goldie greeted him, not as cold as she would— not that she wanted to, “You’ve gotten older.”

“Aw gosh,” Goofy stated the obvious with no ill intent, “You’ve gotten younger yourself, Miss Goldie. Literally!”

The woman chuckled, “You sure do live up to your name, Goofy.”

Her laugh had been taken notice by Dickie who was walking ahead of the dame along with the other kids. She slowed down to check to see what was—

“This is my… grandaughter, Dickie Duck,” She introduced the young girl.

“Imelda has a daughter?” 

“She claims to be,” She shrugs only to be interrupted by the young girl with an immediate “Hey!”

The dog-nosed man shook her hand as he laughed, “Name’s Goofy! You remind me a lot of Mel!”

“You knew my mom?”

“Sure did!” he exclaimed, straightening his tie.

Goldie had sped up; she had to keep an eye on the girls after all if she wanted them to get to the station quickly. Goofy and Dickie continued to speak the enigma that was the O’Gilt family; The other two girls had some other things to discuss, however. 

“You were there during,” Violet whispered, “....Shadow War, right?”

 _Obviously,_ Lena’s remark rang in Webby’s head.

“...Why do you ask?” Webby questioned her.

“You fought against Magica de Spell along with Scrooge McDuck, yes?”

 _Magica de Spell_. They both were shaken up by the name, “...Yeah.”

“I think you should see this,” reaches in her backpack and a familiar ...terrifying glow shone. The amulet...the sumerian talisman. The staff **_she_ ** wielded.

Her heart dropped at the glimmer of its violet light. It felt the world had fallen away and there was nothing but Lena and that horrible-- It was that staff that put the family in danger. That staff that almost killed Scrooge, trapping him into the thing he loved most. That staff that killed… Lena.

Webby’s eyes glowed a dangerous yellow, “W-Why do you have that? You shouldn’t have that- why do you- why are you-“ She froze in horror, sputtering. Darkness covered the whites of her eyes.

Before the hummingbird could answer, the thief snatched it right before their eyes, snapping the little girl back to reality. 

“Well, As I live and breathe,” Goldie’s sharp tongue revered, “A sumerian talisman. A kid like you shouldn’t be having such a thing, Violet.”

“It was Magica’s- ,” a frantic answer came out of the pink bowed child, trembling. Whether it was Lena or Webby that was afraid, it was not clear anymore.

“Oh, I know because I helped the wretched witch that stole it so I’ll take these off your small little wings,”She brandished it, putting it in her side pocket quickly, “thank you very much.” 

Her hand brushed Webby’s head to ease her panic. Seemed to have helped since Webby started holding the old lady’s hand, while looking down.

They were both quiet.

“Run along now, hummingbird,” Goldie lightly pats the small bird’s back, “I don’t want you and Dickie to miss the train.”

“You know, she...really doesn’t want to go,” Violet tried to reason with her.

“I know.”

“Then I don’t understand why you’re-“

“It’s not your job to.”

Violet frowned at her, knowing that Dickie still isn’t taking it well. Goldie pretended to not notice it, darting her eyes somewhere else. 

The train started to ring its last bell; announcements stating its departure in a matter of minutes. People started to crowd entrances, and Goldie and the children sped though. Dickie said her farewells to the dog-nosed man, the character faded into the crowd while goofily waving his hand to her.

_It was time to go._

Everything started to blur. Her grandmother’s face started to blur. Inaudible voices, unfocused, rang in the duck’s head. Her sneakers skidded the pavement; her winged hands tightened its grip on the shoulder straps. 

Tapping her shoulder was Goldie. Her grandmother handed her phone. She couldn’t recall if she’d given it to her before _,_ then realized, ‘ _Right, she’s a thief and she must’ve taken this from earlier.’_

Goldie’s voice was still inaudible to her, but she said something about a number. The girl in the flannel looked on the screen.

_‘Gigi’_ attached with a lovely selfie of the infamous Goldie O’Gilt, and her phone number. Then she raised her head up; her right wing being pulled by Violet into the train.

_Dickie was leaving._ She was leaving Goldie so soon; the thought hadn’t been realized until now.

They were the few who came on board the train, its destination: Duckburg. Blankly, she turned back to look back, not knowing what she was expecting. The old woman was there with Webby, of course, they were both waving to them.

At one more glance Dickie stole, it began to show.

Goldie smiled, but that expression, Dickie despised it. Perhaps because she knew that smile wasn’t too real, and she was the only one that noticed. A great sorrow lay deep into those old emerald eyes, for a split second, then the old woman turned her back. 

_No. Wait. Look at me._ The doors had started to close. This shouldn’t be it… and she didn’t want this to be it. She wasn’t ready to let go. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye. 

_She wasn’t ready…to say goodbye._

She started moving as if her body had been paralyzed for a millennia and she had begun to start walking again. Without thinking, the duck threw herself into the opening before the doors completely slid shut.

Dickie’s arms tackled her grandmother’s shoulders, wavering both of their balance.

It was then that she started to hear her clearly, a big loud, audible, “Kid, are you crazy?!” as Goldie firmly removed Dickie from her and faced her to yell more but then the blur came back— oh wait, those were… those were tears. Slow, long tears ran down her face. Then the train’s gears started chugging behind her while Goldie exhibited nothing but confusion, and a pained expression.

Dickie couldn’t help but hug her grandmother as tight as she could; she couldn’t stop shaking.

“I don’t want to go- I really don’t want to,” she shook her head repeatedly like she wanted Goldie to not say no to this request. Was it a request? She didn’t want it to be one.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” Dickie begged.

After some silence from Goldie, she sighed and embraced her granddaughter back. The lady held her tightly, and spoke, “Must be out of your damn mind to think I’d say no after that.”

A chuckle was made after the response, “Staying then? Yes?”

“Fine, okay,” Goldie’s voice spoke in the tone of defeat, “You’re staying.”

“With you?”

“With me,” She pats Dickie’s hair, gave her a kiss on her head.

“I’ll try my best to keep up with you.”

“You better.”

_These kids will be the death of me. I swear._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Achievement unlocked: Dickie joined the party! i've been trying to write this chapter for months, and I'm so glad I came to this end. I've been so busy, so i had to sneak this in while being busy dealing with life stuff, but hey, i love granddaughters and grandmas. I love everything. Please comment. I love you, and I'm frantically writing this at 2 am and publishing it at this time to. so uh y e a h.
> 
> (yes. goofy was here. bc SPOONERVILLE how could i not.)  
> (that book synopsis may or may not be good omens by terry pratchett and neil gaiman)


	6. a day off with scrooge

The day after Scrooge’s reveal about his knowledge about Della Duck was a slow one. After Louie was found out in the pantry by Mrs. Beakley, Louie dashed off to their bedroom. He retreated to the sheets and the comfort of his bunk, warming it up. His brothers came in late, that day was spent marathoning the tapes their mother left and such. It was emotionally exhausting for them but satisfying.

“So this is where he ran off to…” whispered Dewey. He’s noticed that Louie slept a lot ever since they were young. 

“Shhh— You’re gonna wake him up..” Huey whispered louder. Well it’s not as if Louie wasn’t already awake anyway.

Louie’s back wasn't facing them, convincing the brothers that he was asleep. It wasn’t the first time, since he was in the lowest bunk. He did let himself drift to sleep once the rocking of the supporting beams of the beds cease.

In the waking call of the afternoon sun, Louie finally woke up. He rose up, carelessly throwing around his blanket over the bed as it always have. There was a note folded on the floor labeled “Louie” in Huey’s handwriting.

_ “Hey sleepyhead! _

_ I knew you wouldn’t be awake when we were about to leave but I had to go on an emergency camping trip because Junior woodchuck stuff, you know? I was gonna tell you last night but you were asleep. Dewey was roped into going to St. Canard because of Launchpad’s enthusiasm for the show he likes..that’s about that purple superhero? Anyway, I’ll be away for a couple of days. Hopefully, Dewey isn’t. Take care, ok? Check on Uncle Scrooge and uncle Donald for me.” _

_ -Huey _

_ It’s another day. _

* * *

  
  


“Uncle Scrooge,” Louie shook his uncle’s shoulder, “it’s 2 in the afternoon.” 

Scrooge didn’t even flinch, but the child knew he was awake. Could’ve been awake for hours before the duckling stepped foot in the bedroom. He was relieved the room was cleaner and has less empty red bulls around unlike a couple of months ago before his hospitalization.

He didn’t use any blankets, so it crumpled the sheets. His uncle seems to have been wearing the same clothes from yesterday— the past few days maybe. Nonetheless, Scrooge’s back was turned but he could still tell because he reeked a little bit.

Everyone was off to an errand today or for the next few days. SHUSH occasionally brought Beakley in for recruitment purposes. Huey was off to a camping trip and Dewey was supposedly roped into an adventure with Launchpad as they rode to St. Canard. Webby and Goldie are having the pretend “girl’s night” and he was sure that would be extended to more than one day. (and he hasn’t gotten a text from Goldie yet) Louie was here because no one else was. It was only Duckworth, Donald, Scrooge and him today.

One of Louie’s theories for why he’s like this would be that Scrooge noticing Goldie slipped away yesterday a little too late, or he was emotionally exhausted from all of the Della stuff. These were one of the times he wished Goldie didn’t pull a  _ Goldie _ and let Scrooge know that she was going somewhere instead at least. 

Why the hell is the timing of these events so unfortunate?

The lazy child sighed, “Uncle Scrooge? Please.”

The silence was the automatic response. He promised Goldie he would look after the old miser. However, Louie, like the adult he looks up to, didn’t know shit about comforting people. That was a Huey thing. Texting Huey was not an option since the camping site didn’t have any service. 

He looked around to keep the conversation going, still sitting on the bed. Louie looms over the bedside drawer, eyeing empty pill bottles that held all sorts of Scrooge’s medication. 

“You ran out, huh?” He speculated out loud, knowing that the various pills that were given to his great uncle were something that helped Scrooge greatly. Maybe this has something to do with his current state too?

No answer was given. It was like Louie was talking to air; a conversation that was going nowhere. 

“I’ll tell Mrs. B or err... **Goldie** to buy refills for you if that’s what you want…”Louie softly added, taunting him with a reaction. Scrooge jerked at the mention of his love’s name. Ha, his youngest nephew thought he would give him something after that. It was little, but it was still something which should be a good thing! 

If there’s something he’s learned for having off days himself, you need to have some perspective on how they feel. The strongest people, no matter how tough they were, can fall apart too. We’re just here to help them get back up. 

Louie waited patiently for Scrooge’s reply.

A bit hesitant, but Scrooge murmured, “Ye seem tae be close with Goldie.”

“Yeah…?” He gulped.

“...Did... Did she leave because she was tired of me?” the old man shrank, retreating back.

“What the—“ Louie managed to physically stop himself from swearing then continued, “No, she’s not tired of you, Unca. She never was— Actually, she  _ can’t get enough of you _ if you know what I mean.”

“AGh—!” Scrooge’s back was still turned from the child, but Louie can imagine the red on his beak as the old man moved his arms to cover his face, “Curse me kilts, Louie!”

So is that really it? Just that? Louie thought Scrooge McDuck would’ve been used to Goldie O’Gilt leaving. But, I suppose it still hurt. It always does for Scrooge. Scrooge knew not to cross any lines, not to ask too much, because he trusts Goldie being herself. He loves her as she is. That was absolute. 

That’s probably not  **_just_ ** it, isn’t it?

“Is that all…?” Louie asked in a much more genuine considerate tone contrasting his usual sinister accusatory one. He was not here to interrogate or outwit someone. This child was just having a talk to his uncle. The exhausted duck hesitated to give his nephew an answer, his voice turned soft and his beak was rusty from uttering any words. 

“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know...” was what escaped from Scrooge’s beak as he squeezed his arms tight. 

Louie frowned. Even his uncle wasn’t sure what was what he was feeling— No, he hoped it wasn’t what he was thinking.

“...Is-“ Louie halted, resenting what he was about to ask, “Is it about Della?”

Mom was never a term that he considered to call his mother. Not ever, she was always just Della. He wanted her to be just Della Duck.

“I suppose so- maybe?” the miser seemed down as he answered, “I thought I’d feel better—… or at least, feel okay if I told all of ye about that. If I knew or remembered what she was like, if I talked— I thought—“

“The feeling would go away?”Louie completed his uncle’s rambling, rueful of it, “It doesn’t really happen overnight. Trust me. I know.” The times when Louie was “lazy” proved these words. Being the youngest was not easy, especially, when somehow you’ve become the most sensible one of the bunch.

“...I’m tired of feeling… tired if that makes any sense.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, I know, Unca.”

“ _ I’m supposed to be ok _ .”

“Well, you’re not, and that’s okay. You’re allowed to **_not be okay_ ** —from time to time if that makes any sense.”

Scrooge didn’t argue, choosing to remain silent.

“I’m not good at making people feel better...,” frustratingly, Louie explained, “—but I know a thing or two about feeling shitty, and being tired even if you haven’t done anything all day, and staying in bed forever.”

“........Ye swore.”

“LOOK. FOR ONCE, I’m TRYING TO bE—“Louie unexpectedly raised his voice at the defenseless old man, pausing because his voice cracked, “.....-nice.”

The teal-eyed man let out a chuckle,“...I apologize if I worried ye.”

“Well you’re worried. I’m worried. We’re all worried!” Louie gestured with his hands, “We’re not supposed to be unfeeling robots or something.” 

He sadly laughed as a response.

“Yeah so, Unca, we’re gonna have a  _ lowkey  _ day today, and take it easy but you have to get out of bed. That’s all there is. That’s all I want from you.”

Scrooge slowly sat up, matching his eye level to the child. He gave a subtle smile to him, reassuring Louie a bit.

“Okay,” was all Scrooge gave his nephew. It wasn’t a cold, hollow reply. Quite strained, but he managed to get it out of him. It… wasn’t as warm as he wanted it to be.

“You also stink. Go take a shower, and change into something comfier,” Louie hopped off the bed, “I’ll wait… downstairs, okay?”

“...okay,” his voice has gone weaker in volume.

“Uncle Scrooge,” the child pleaded.

“Yes, Louie?”

“I love you,” shyly, he closed the door on his way out.

_...I love you too. _

* * *

  
  


His body’s unknown soreness swept away as he showered. Moving his rusted joints was like a needless chore. It was agonizing, but albeit tolerable. Scrooge grabbed a comfy maroon turtleneck sweater, indulging the warmth it provided. 

Stepping in front of the mirror, all there was a reflection of a tired husk of the insomniac. He hasn’t seen himself in a while? His ruffled feathers have been neglected, causing them to look a bit disheveled. Grooming them and trimming them was an option, but he wasn’t feeling up to it. Scrooge stared at himself vacantly, letting time rot him away. His grip on the sink softened.

_...Still tired, and dizzy. _

Dazed. His eyesight started going out of focus. He couldn’t tell if it’s because he wasn't wearing his spectacles or the headache he had. His head has been hurting, and it’s gotten worse. He showered too long —might’ve been a mistake.

His thoughts stopped after someone attempting to open the door knob. Shortly after, Louie’s head popped out after some lock picking tools was still on his hands. The triplet’s concerned face was priceless. 

“Yeah uh...Really worried why you were taking long.” Louie honestly just said the reason, no point in lying to his uncle like this.

“Ye know..” Scrooge chortled, “ for a child, ye like tae appear as someone cold and unfeeling but ye definitely care a lot.”

“Are you describing yourself?” Louie snarked, denying his uncle’s jab at the truth.

“... Yer a wee scunner, aren’t ye?”

“If that’s the scottish equivalent of the endearing term,  _ Little Shit _ , then I fully accept it,” the green one stuck out his tongue, approaching the old man. Louie took his hand. 

...“Come on, Unca,” his nephew guided him, leading out to the hallway, “I told Duckworth to cook you something and we’ll be over at the couch, watching Duckton Abbey.”

Louie slowed down his pace for his uncle as Scrooge wondered, “.... Duckton Abbey?”

“Well, I know Ottoman Empire isn’t your thing and I watch  _ that _ with my brothers. I need something different or else, I’ll get bored. So I figured I’d watch it with you.”

“...Fair enough.”

Before they knew it, they were downstairs. The child in green led the miser to the living room, involuntarily being more of a caretaker to him. He didn’t know he had it in him— Huey was influencing him too much. 

“Dewey?” That blue thing managed to reach the corner of his eye, calling out to it for confirmation.

“Hm? Oh ‘sup, Lou, and Unca Scrooge!”

“Good morning, Dewey,” the old man managed to give a smile to his nephew.

“I thought you left?”

“Nah,” His brother gave an answer, “...I just didn’t feel like going somewhere today so I’m just here.”

“Cool,”  _ They’re all having some weird crisis today I guess— _ “Wanna watch Duckton Abbey with us? We’ve got a  _ lowkey _ day planned.”

“Aren’t all of our days ‘lowkey days’ at this point?”

“Hey, that’s offensive to all the lowkey days we had which is  **zero** , thank you very much.”

“Okay, okay!” Dewey agreed to disagree, getting bored of the no-adventure life, “I’ll join you guys.”

In a little while, the McDucks were found sitting on the couch, attentively watching the British drama. Scrooge was bundled up in a blanket by his kids if it was for his benefit or theirs— he was about to find out. Dewey was invested in the story however it was difficult to listen to the dialogue since it sounded like a conversation with multiple Beakleys. For Louie, it was easier to his ears since Beakley always scolded him for whatever he did every once in a while. He appreciated the charisma and the sarcastic humor the characters displayed. His favorite was the called Lady Mary, and well, maybe it reminded him of one other woman who’d made life difficult for herself by being cold and uncaring.

The brothers snuggled up to the miser under his blanket, revealing their true motive. The old man’s feathers were a bit stiff, already tousled as they came into contact. 

“Rascals,” grumpily, Scrooge called his nephews out as they tried to preen his tufts when usually this is the other way around.

“If you’re not gonna preen yourself, we’ll do it for you,” Dewey reasoned, hugging the old miser after his beak at least made their uncle’s feathers easier to look at. 

One against two. He gave in to his young ones, ruffling their hair feathers. Arms wrapped tightly around each other- boys being boys, dreaming of what tomorrow would become. Peacefully, they all accompanied each other in warmth. Soon, drifting to sleep.

This wasn’t such a bad day after all.


End file.
